


daisies and lineart

by protemani



Category: A Rendezvous With Destiny (Podcast)
Genre: F/M, Flower Shop Worker Fred Monmouth, Fluff, Fred Monmouth Being a Dumbass, Fred being Fred, Humour, Mild Angst, Mild Language, No beta we die like Flora's dignity every time she finds Fred hot, POV Fred Monmouth, Tattoo Artist Flora Watson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:36:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29723598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/protemani/pseuds/protemani
Summary: Fred's life could've gone a lot worse, all things considered, but it could have gone a lot better as well. Unfortunately, the new hot chick at the tattoo parlour isn't helping matters.(Flora would just like to point out that he brought it upon himself.)
Relationships: Flora Watson/Fred Monmouth, Fred Monmouth & Elspeth Lockwood
Kudos: 2





	daisies and lineart

**Author's Note:**

> Title from [this song](https://www.tiktok.com/@ou.blaire/video/6918031760127315206?_d=secCgYIASAHKAESMgowlcHWG%2F3xtMYrIXPz694V%2BxyGfKrI5Fe5zFJ67ci%2FS2SR7zKVqRRcmZfQo1A%2BYUCiGgA%3D&language=en&preview_pb=0&sec_user_id=MS4wLjABAAAAmGEEGzswkssMITl1_--bVQltByopgrqtNB-7sl47YO4iU58LhKtcJu51IS62mrH_&share_app_name=musically&share_item_id=6918031760127315206&share_link_id=f01e7f60-158e-49d9-828b-e82c8666c0b4&timestamp=1612472211&u_code=dg0212f706ili9&user_id=6903191558994002950&utm_campaign=client_share&utm_medium=android&utm_source=messenger&source=h5_m) which is now eternally stuck in my head.

“Do you think it will matter?” Elspeth asked him, voice wavering slightly. “He looked like he really wanted that book, but the price he was offering was simply not...acceptable. He seemed pretty disappointed – what if he doesn’t turn up at the shop again? Or tells his friends not to–”

Fred could see her fidgeting out of the corner of his eye as she rambled on. He exhaled and stubbed out his cigarette on the pavement.

“Ellie, I really wouldn’t worry about it,” he said, lifting himself up on his feet and turning towards her. She snapped her mouth shut and leaned further into herself against the wall of the bookshop, coffee cup coming closer to her chest. 

Fred tried not to wince. His tact still needed working on, it seemed; and he’d been doing so well to get her to feel more comfortable around him. “The customer sounds a bit like an asshole, trying to haggle his way out a set price that you told him can’t be changed multiple times,” he said, trying to soften his voice. “You did the right thing by standing your ground – and if he comes back round to complain, screw him. You can always call on me to keep him in check,” he added.

Ellie smiled and nodded. “Yeah, thanks. I just really don’t want to, uh, tarnish my employer’s name, I guess. They’ve been too good to me for that.”

“I know.” And he did – Loki was somehow one of the biggest dickheads and most understanding people Fred knew. “And you won’t. I’m sure they’d understand. Hell, I think they’d side  _ with  _ you.”

Ellie nodded again and sipped her coffee. Her posture loosened and Fred relaxed, too. He didn’t want to screw this up – she was the first proper sort-of-friend he’d made in a while.

An engine sounded somewhere behind him and Fred turned around to see a motorbike parking in front of the tattoo shop at the end of the street. The rider  _ sprung  _ off of the bike and removed their helmet, then shook out the long, loose ombré curls from under it. They glanced briefly in Elspeth and Fred’s direction, smiled, and then headed straight for the door.

Fred could feel his face heat up.  _ Damn, she’s hot.  _ “Who is  _ that? _ ”

“Ah, that would be the new tattooist that Leah mentioned the other day, I think,” Ellie replied and he turned, catching her binning her cup. “She’s very good, apparently – has even worked on some celebrities, if I recall correctly.”

“Really,” Fred said, turning to look at the parlour again. From their current position he couldn’t really see inside the shop, but he could swear he caught a glimpse of the blond end of one curl through the window.

“What, are you feeling suddenly inspired to overcome your fear of needles?” 

Fred huffed and turned around to see Ellie smiling smugly to herself. “Har, har,” he replied, and she started full-on chuckling. 

_ So much for being the shy one.  _ Fred threw one last look at the parlour before reaching for the handle on the flower shop door. “No, but I might just persuade her out of there so that I don’t have to.”

“Oh?” Ellie said from the threshold of the bookstore. “Well, good luck with that, I suppose. I hear she’s a bit of a tough nut to crack.”

Fred smirked at her one last time before going in. “I won’t need it.”

_ I’ve still got it,  _ he thought to himself as he glanced at the orchids in the corner and went to fetch a watering jug.  _ It’ll be fine. _

(He wouldn’t need luck for this. He needed it for too much else, anyway.)

* * *

It was not fine.

Fred walked into the tattoo shop at the end of the work day, sleeves slightly rolled up to reveal the results of his still regular (despite all circumstances conspiring to the contrary) work-outs. There was no Leah or customer in sight – just a lone New Hot Girl, writing down something into what looked like an accounts book. She looked up when the bell at the door rang and gave him a perfunctory smile. Then, she seemed to really take him in, and the edges to it became...sharper.

(He’d never been good at taking hints.)

“‘Scuse me for interrupting,” Fred said, leaning on the counter to her left, tilting his head slightly and smiling in his certified knee-melting way. “I hope you’re not too busy?”

The chick slammed the book, causing him to flinch at the sound. Her grin was unnaturally wide. Something in Fred’s stomach dropped, but he forced himself to remain cool.

“No, not anymore,” she said airily, putting the book in one of the cupboards and locking it, and then reached for her jacket on the chair behind the counter. “The shop is closed now, though, so if you want to get inked, you’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

Fred had studied (no, not  _ graduated,  _ but  _ studied _ ) at one of the top universities in the country, and had been a truly exemplary student with his sports scholarship and his grades and–

“Actually, I came to get something else,” he replied, realised she’d put a verb after that phrase, felt his face heat up and hastened to add: “your number, for example.”

–why was she looking at him like  _ that? _

“Sorry, dude,” she said, heading out of the door. Fred scrambled to follow her. “I don’t think you’re my type.”

“Why not?” He was almost too-stunned to stop the door from slamming into his face.

“For one, you didn’t even ask for my name.”

Fred stopped dead in his tracks, the bell of the parlour ringing behind him.  _ Ah. Fuck. _

“Anyway,” new chick said, putting her helmet on, “if you decide you want a tattoo, though, I won’t say no to inking you. I can’t promise you it won’t hurt, though.”

She turned around and gave him a mocking thumbs-up and then lifted one leg to sit on her bike. 

The thought of the needle going into his skin was enough to make Fred queasy, which is the only way he found to explain to himself later why his reply ended up being:

“What if I figure it out? Your name, that is.”

She paused just before turning the ignition key and looked up at him. He could kind of see her eyes through the visor – they seemed surprised.

“Guess my name?” she said. “How–”

She stopped, then twisted her torso to look at the flower shop. “Actually, you work there, don’t you?” 

Fred nodded and gulped as the visor looked his way again. 

“Okay,” she said. He thought she sounded almost  _ giddy,  _ like she was in on some joke he wasn’t. “Go ahead, try and guess. I’ll tell you if you get it right – honest! – but you can’t cheat by asking my co-worker or anything, I  _ will  _ know. As a reward, I can promise you to at least not think you are a total dumbass.”

“Alright, fair enough,” Fred said, feeling too dazed to feel properly insulted.  _ What the  _ **_hell_ ** _ had he gotten himself into? _

“Wonderful,” she said, revving up the engine. “I’m giving you one week to do that, so you better get it right next Monday. Only three guesses allowed.”

And then she turned her bike onto the street and rode out on it, driving into the sunset like some movie star way out of his league.

Fred stood there for a couple of minutes, still trying to process what had just happened. Then, he fished out his phone and put on selfie mode on his camera. His cheeks were a brighter shade of red than the roses in the shop.

He put the phone back into his pocket and buried his face into his hands.  _ Fuck. _

**Author's Note:**

> How could I _not_ write something centered on my son, the light of my life, the apple of my eye, being the absolute disaster pining dumbass that he is?
> 
> Also: this fic looks like it's plotted out. It is not. We will **wing it** so strongly James Patterson will say 'wow'. ~~If you got that reference off-hand then congratulations, we're going to the same circle of the Inferno together.~~


End file.
